The second in my 'Five Ways Spike and Xander Didn't Meet' series.

Title: Initiative!Xander & Hostile 17
Series: Five Ways Spike and Xander Didn’t Meet
Author: Spikedluv
Fandom: BtVS
Rating: NC17/Slash
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Length: 4813 words
Spoilers: Through BtVS season 4 and Ats season 5 ‘Why We Fight’.
Notes: Written for fall_for_sx.
Previously: Wish!Verse: Vamp!Xander & Spike
Feedback: It’s ALL about the feedback (and naked Spike)! Don’t make me beg, it’s not pretty.
Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel the series, characters and concepts are the property, copyright and trademark of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Kuzui Enterprises, Grr Argh, the WB, UPN and whomever else they really belong to. No ownership is claimed by the author. This work is nonprofit, noncommercial and not for sale for commercial purposes. Characters and situations not specifically owned by the creators of BtVS/Ats or under copyright, are the sole copyright of the author.
Written: September 29, 2005

Five Ways Spike and Xander Didn't Meet

by
Spikedluv

Initiative!Xander & Hostile 17

Two weeks after basic training ended, Xander found himself stationed in Sunnydale, a member of a covert military organization called the Initiative. A mere three months later he was charged with treason and unceremoniously tossed into the brig. And it was all Spike’s fault.

It had all started when Buffy came to Sunnydale and they found out that vampires, demons, and other evil creatures of the night were real. But Xander’s life was irrevocably changed when Buffy died. At the moment he’d realized that she was dead, really, truly dead, he’d hated Angel more than ever. But he’d hated himself even more, because they’d both let Buffy confront the Master alone.

“We can’t leave her here.”

And so they had carried Buffy’s body out of the Master’s lair and brought her to the high school, only to discover that the Master was already there, and that the Hellmouth was opening. The knowledge of Buffy’s death weighed heavily on their hearts, but had also imbued them with purpose. Together they’d defeated the Master and closed the Hellmouth.

Giles had stayed in Sunnydale as long as he could, but despite his passionate arguments to the Watcher’s Council that the Hellmouth needed to be guarded, he had eventually been called back to England. But while he was there he taught Xander and Willow how to protect themselves and took them on patrol to teach them how to fight should they be attacked. Before leaving, he charged Angel with helping them to keep Sunnydale safe.

“You expect us to work with Deadboy?”

“I expect you to do what you have to, to stay alive, Xander.”

And for two years they had. During their senior year, Willow made noises about staying in Sunnydale with Xander and attending UC Sunnydale, but she chose Harvard when Xander told her he was joining the Army. Early on he’d made the decision to get out of Sunnydale any way he could. The irony of his way out sending him back in was not lost on him.

When he and Willow left Sunnydale, Angel had moved to L.A. Though they’d gotten along because they had to, there were too many bad memories for him and Angel to become friends, and Xander desperately hoped that he’d never have to see Angel again.

After fighting vampires and demons for two years, he’d easily made it through the rigors of basic training. His first posting had been cut short when one overheard comment about vampires brought him to the attention of someone with some seriously spooky connections.

“Private Harris?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I’m Special Agent Riley Finn.”

They shook hands and Finn directed him to a chair.

“Tell me what you know about vampires.”

Within twenty-four hours he’d received his transfer papers and was on his way to Sunnydale.

Xander had been shown around the complex and cleared for use on all the state-of-the-art weapons used by the Initiative, and if he’d bitterly wondered where they’d been when Buffy had been killed, he didn’t say it out loud. He was equipped with a taser and assigned guard duty on one of the upper levels. It was just his luck to be back in Sunnydale once more, but he comforted himself that at least he hadn’t been assigned to one of the retrieval teams.

About two months after he’d arrived at the Initiative complex, Xander came to the attention of Dr. Maggie Walsh when he foiled an escape attempt by one of the HSTs. He told them that he’d just been in the right place at the right time, but they insisted on rewarding him for the recapture with a promotion. Of sorts.

One half-hour briefing later, Xander knew about the behavior modification experiments and that Hostile 17 was the first demon who’d come close to effecting an escape after having been subject to them. They wanted to know why.

“We’d like to learn how Hostile 17 was able to function despite the chip firing,” Dr. Walsh said.

“Permission to speak freely, Ma’am?”

“Of course, Agent Harris.”

“That thing killed two men during it’s escape attempt.”

“And our research will give their deaths meaning.”

Xander remained silent as she swept out of the room. When he and only one other Agent were left, he looked over.

“Agent Graham Dunn.” He held out his hand.

Xander shook it. “Alexander Harris.”

“You’ve been reassigned. I’ll show you to your post.”

Xander had stood and followed Agent Dunn to his new post. He’d looked inside the glass door of the private cell at the still-unconscious form of Hostile 17, then turned his back and took up position. He’d saluted Agent Dunn when he left, gripping the holstered taser at his waist with a hand that still shook a little bit.

He’d never used a taser on anyone before and he still tingled with the electrical charge, even though the doctors told him that he shouldn’t feel anything. It reminded him of the first time he’d staked a vampire, when wood met the unyielding solidness of dead flesh until the vampire flew apart in a cloud of dust and there was no more resistance, so maybe it was just the tingle of nerves he was feeling.

Hostile 17 had remained unconscious for the rest of Xander’s shift, which gave him time to think about everything he’d just learned. He’d seen the holding cells during the tour he’d been given when he first arrived at the facility, but he’d been a little bit surprised to find out that the Initiative wasn’t killing the demons it captured.

Xander had heard rumors about research, but he hadn’t known what kind of experiments the scientists were running on the demons they captured. Not that he’d actually given it much thought. He’d just assumed it had something to do with figuring out how to kill them more efficiently, or how to eradicate them entirely. His previous guard duty didn’t normally bring him into contact with the captured demons or the retrieval teams, and there were times he could almost forget he was working with people who knew about the existence of demons.

In fact, he’d nearly had a heart attack when he came face-to-face with Hostile 17 during its attempted escape. He’d previously thought on occasion that it would be the boredom of guard duty that killed him. If it wasn’t for the fact that the sirens had been going off and the HST vamped out when confronted with Xander, he might have thought it was someone who worked in the compound until it was too late. Though the hair and the clothes should’ve been a dead giveaway. No pun intended.

It had almost made him wish he could sense vampires like Buffy had been able to. He hadn’t thought about her in a long time; had made a conscious decision not to, because it hurt too much to think about what could’ve been, what should’ve been.

He’d wondered what Buffy would think of all this? She would probably laugh at the meager retrieval rate that they were so proud of. And she’d probably be very vocal about the need to capture demons in the first place, instead of just killing them.

Over the next few days, Hostile 17 had been unconscious when Xander’s shift began. He knew it couldn’t still be from the taser, which made him wonder what they were doing to it that took it so long to recover. Not that he wasn’t happy to not have to deal with an awake and alert HST, but it gave him way too much time to think. About things like why scientists in lab coats appeared several times day to take readings and make observations on the clipboards they carried with them.

On the fourth day, Hostile 17 had been awake, if not alert. Its unfocused gaze roamed over Xander, and then snapped back.

“You!” The sound was more of a croak than the growl Xander expected. “When I get out of here, I’m going to drain you dry. After I put great gaping holes where your eyes used to be.” It had attempted an evil grin. “Railroad spikes are my specialty.”

The threat would’ve been more intimidating if the HST had been able to stand, and if it hadn’t been locked behind unbreakable glass, and if it hadn’t had a behavior modification chip shoved in its brain, but Xander had felt a shiver of apprehension just the same.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he’d said, and turned his back in a show of indifference. Thankfully, Hostile 17 passed out and was silent the rest of Xander’s shift.

After a week the scientists had lost interest in Hostile 17 and it was left alone. Which meant it was awake when Xander showed up.

“Been waitin’ for you,” it had said when Xander relieved the soldier who had been standing guard and took his position, and then it proceeded to tell Xander in graphic detail how it would give him a slow, painful death when it got out. And it would, hadn’t it already proven it could?

For two and a half days Xander had ignored it as best he could, which wasn’t very well if the nightmares were any indication, but finally he could take no more. “Please,” he’d said, putting as much disdain as he could manage into his voice, “Buffy would’ve taken you out like yesterday’s garbage.”

The moment of silence at that statement had been golden, but as with all good things, it came to an end.

“Who in soddin’ hell is Buffy?”

And so Xander had told Hostile 17 all about Buffy, the Vampire Slayer, and how she’d guarded the Hellmouth.

“There was a slayer here? Bloody hell, I haven’t tasted slayer’s blood in years.”

Xander had frozen with the memory of finding Buffy’s limp body in the Master’s lair and Hostile 17 had taken advantage of his emotional turmoil.

“Well where’s your precious slayer now, eh?”

Xander had considered not replying, but then decided that to do so would be to deny Buffy. “She died. The Master killed her.”

“The Master?” Hostile 17 had sounded surprised. “Thought that old buzzard was dead.”

“He is now,” Xander said, and hadn’t been able to hide the little bit of pride that statement evoked.

“The slayer kill ‘im?”

“No. We did.”

“The Initiative?” The HST’s voice had been full of scorn.

“No.”

Xander’s relief had arrived before Hostile 17 could push for more information, but before he’d left, Xander had made a loose fist with his hand, as if he’d been holding a stake, and had bounced it lightly off his chest to show the HST that he knew exactly how to take out a vampire. And he didn’t need a taser to do it. The look of surprise on its face had been well worth the inability to curb the childish impulse.

The next day Xander had almost been looking forward to going to work. He’d thought about it all night and had actually been excited at the prospect of telling this ‘big, bad’ vampire how a group of humans (and a vampire with a soul, but he didn’t count), had killed the Master. By the time he got there, though, he’d been feeling sad, because the victory hadn’t been complete without Buffy there.

But it had only taken Hostile 17 two hours to weaken Xander’s resolve with its constant whining, and so he’d taken great relish in telling it how they’d taken out the Master, and while his followers were in disarray, put a huge dent in the vampire population of Sunnydale as well.

“Hmm, Angel, you say? A vampire with a soul? Knew an Angelus once, but what are the bloody chances? Although, it would explain a lot.” Hostile 17 turned to Xander. “Dark hair, wide brow, dumb as a post?”

Xander had wanted to remain silent, but it was too tempting. “That’s an insult to posts.”

After a long silence, Hostile 17 said, “Did they capture him?”

Xander had shaken his head.

“And how in bloody hell did you go from there...to here?”

Xander hadn’t answered, and had remained silent for the rest of his shift. He wouldn’t have known what to say, even if he had still felt like talking. It was a question he’d been asking himself a lot lately.

The next day the scientists showed up again.

“Has Hostile 17 said anything?” they’d asked him.

“Got a name, you know.”

“He won’t shut up,” Xander had said.

They’d taken some more readings, jotted something down, and then left.

“What is it?”

“What’s what?”

“Your name.”

A long pause, and then, “Spike.”

The next day Spike had said, “You know what they’re doing here, don’t you?”

Xander hadn’t answered, in part because, no, he didn’t know.

“You’re here because you think they’re the good guys, ridding the Earth of demon-kind. This chip in my head, you think it’s there to kill me? Yeah, it could, if I can’t feed, but it’s there to control me. Never much liked the idea of giving someone else control.”

That night Xander had nightmares in which he relived finding Buffy’s body and his own failure at saving her.

“What do you think they want with a bunch of demons they can control? Make one hell of an army, don’t you think?”

“They wouldn’t do that!”

Spike had laughed. “Sure they would. And they’re not the first to try, either.” When Xander didn’t reply, Spike went on. “Ain’t the first time I was captured. Why don’t you ask your precious vampire with a soul about a certain German sub, huh?”

Xander hadn’t known how to get a hold of Angel, and even if he had, didn’t know if he would have. He hadn’t wanted to believe Spike, but while he’d been guarding his cell, standing still and silent as a statue, he’d overheard some things that made a little more sense now. Things that might not have been said if they’d thought he wasn’t one of them, or thought of him as more than a piece of furniture.

Without letting on to Spike that he believed him, Xander had begun paying more attention to whispered conversations. He’d noticed doors that required special authorization to enter. He’d glanced at the clipboards when the scientists came to the cell. And one day he’d cornered Agent Graham Dunn.

“Uh, hi.”

“Hi. Harris, right?”

“Right. Listen, at the risk of sounding pathetic, you want to do something tonight?”

Graham had raised an eyebrow as he smiled.

“I mean, I’m from Sunnydale, but I don’t know many people here now that everyone’s left for college, and the ones I do know, it’s hard to come up with answers for what I do now.”

“Actually, we’re having a party at the frat house,” Graham had said.

“Oh. Maybe some other time.”

“No! I mean, you’re welcome to come.”

“I am? I don’t know, the last frat party I attended, they summoned a demon.” Xander’d left out the part about being dressed like a woman.

“We promise not to do that,” Graham had said solemnly.

Xander’d grinned. “Okay.”

He’d nursed one beer all night long and pondered the effects of alcohol on soldiers who had too many secrets and too much stress.

It had taken him a week to gather enough pieces of the puzzle to get a better idea of what was going on, and it all had to do with room 314 and something called A.D.A.M., which wasn’t an army of demons, but possibly something much worse. He’d realized that he needed to do something about it before it was activated, but he needed help. God, how he’d wished that Buffy was there. Or Giles and Willow. He’d even have taken Angel’s help, and that was scraping the bottom of the barrel.

“You want to get out of here?”

“What?”

“It’s a simple question.”

“Right. Well, since you’re not a moron, I don’t think, you know damned well I want to get out of here!”

“Keep your voice down,” Xander’d snapped.

“What’s the catch?”

“You help me kill something.”

“And what? You just let me go?”

“No, we’ll probably have to fight our way out. Might get killed.”

Spike had been silent.

“Think about it.”

The next day Spike had asked, “What happens when we get out?”

Xander’d shrugged. “I haven’t really thought that far ahead. I suppose if we get out, we go our separate ways. And hide.”

“And what about this chip?”

“I can’t do anything about the chip.”

“If I can’t feed, I’ll die.”

This time Xander had been silent.

The next day he’d said, “We could stick together. I could get you blood. But I won’t let you kill anyone.”

“Like I could.”

The next day Spike had asked, “Where are we going to hide?”

“We could go to England. Giles might help us.”

“The Watcher? Yeah, that sounds like a bloody good plan.”

“Well then, you think of something.”

“When are we going to do this?”

Xander’d turned his head, startled. “You’re in?”

Spike had shrugged. “Rather go out fighting than be locked in here all my bloody unlife.”

“Tomorrow,” Xander had said. It was actually quieter in the complex during the day, since most of the retrieval teams were sent out at night. There were a bunch of scientists, but a lot less soldiers to contend with.

The next morning Xander had shown up late so that everyone on his shift had already signed in and got their weapons, and everyone on third shift had turned theirs in and signed out. With a smile he’d tasered the weapons clerk and tied him up. He’d taken the clerk’s ID in case his didn’t get him where he needed to go, and then loaded up on weapons.

He had jogged to his post so that his flushed skin and gleam of excitement might be mistaken for the adrenaline from the run. “Sorry I’m late,” he’d said, and then tasered the soldier where he stood. He’d unlocked the door to Spike’s cell and dragged the unconscious soldier inside.

Xander had handed Spike a few weapons and then grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the cell. “Let’s go.”

“You’re gonna trust me with these?”

“Put them away!” He’d watched as Spike stuck one weapon in his duster pocket and one in his waistband. “You’re the one who said you needed me.”

Xander had led Spike to the labs as if he was taking him for testing. They’d passed one scientist who didn’t give them a second glance. When they’d gotten to room 314, Xander just stopped and stared. He had not believed it was real.

He’d used his card, but the lock just beeped at him. He’d swiped the card from the weapons clerk, hoping his clearance was high enough to get them in here, and the lock disengaged. Sweating and shaking, Xander had pushed the door open and took a step into the dark room. He’d reached out for the light switch. When the lights came on he’d found five guns pointed at his face.

“Drop your weapons and put your hands in the air,” Agent Finn had ordered.

Xander had dropped the gun and raised his hands. One of the soldiers had stepped forward and frisked him while the others held their weapons on him. When he’d been relieved of all his weapons, the soldier stood back.

“You’re being charged with treason,” Finn had said. “Take him to the brig.”

Graham...Agent Dunn had stepped forward. “Move.”

Xander’d turned around and saw Spike being held by the back wall. Guns had been pointed at him, but he hadn’t been tasered, which told Xander that Spike had betrayed him.

Spike had shrugged and smirked, then confirmed his thought. “Sorry, pet, their deal was better.”

Xander had nodded his acceptance. Spike was a vampire, he really shouldn’t have expected anything less. Still, it had surprised him how much that stung.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been confined to the brig when the door opened and Spike slipped through, dragging the guard with him.

“What are you doing here?”

Spike had a white lab coat thrown on over his clothes, a small duffle slung over one shoulder.

“Is that a disguise?”

“Shut up. Got me in here, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, and speaking of which....”

“Quit yapping, we don’t have much time.” He unlocked Xander’s door. “Come on.”

Xander refused to move off the hard bunk. “Where?”

“Do your thing so we can get out of here.” Spike said it as if Xander was a moron for not having figured it out himself.

“What happened to, ‘sorry, pet, their deal was better’?”

“Was, wasn’t it, when they had a stake pointed at my chest?”

Xander jumped to his feet. “They threatened to stake you?”

Spike smirked. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch, we got work to do.” He tossed Xander the gun he’d taken from the unconscious soldier. “‘Course, don’t have the armament you showed up with.”

“Not like it mattered.”

“Let’s go.”

“Do you think this is wise?”

“They’ll never expect us to try a second time, especially not the same day.”

“What’s in there?” Xander asked as Spike pulled the door open and peeked out.

“My duster. Ain’t leavin’ that behind.”

Spike seemed to be right, as they met no soldiers on their way to the labs. They did pass three scientists, all of whom were tasered and their IDs confiscated. When they got to room 314 Xander hesitated.

“What’s wrong?” Spike rolled his eyes. “No soldier boys in there this time, pet.”

Xander nodded and swiped the first ID card. The lock clicked and they stepped into the room, locking the door behind them. This time there was only one scientist in the room, along with the abomination lying on the gurney. Xander tasered the scientist before he could raise the alarm, and then he and Spike looked at the patchwork demon.

“The perfect killing machine,” Spike said, reaching out to touch the skewer jutting from it’s arm. “A piece at a time.”

“We need to kill it.” Xander looked around. “And make sure they can’t build another one.”

Spike reached into the pocket of his lab coat and pulled out a grenade.

“What the hell!”

“This oughta do it.” He fitted it into the empty cavity in the things chest. “Should blow it to itty bitty pieces.”

“What do you think goes in there?” Xander asked.

“It’s heart?”

“Funny. Or, no, maybe not.”

“Not it’s heart?”

“Not funny. It needs a power source.”

“Something like this?” Spike held up something that looked like it could be a power source.

Xander took it and looked it over. “Yeah, something just like this.”

“Well, let’s not leave it behind.”

Spike held out the open duffle and Xander dropped the power source inside.

“Let’s do this and get out of here.” Spike took the grenade in hand once more. “Check the hallway.”

Xander pulled the door open and peeked outside. “Clear.”

“Go!” Spike pulled the pin and dropped the grenade into the thing’s chest. It went off before they were halfway down the hall, sending them both tumbling to the floor. Sirens immediately began blaring.

“Hope you had an escape route.”

“Did, but won’t need it,” Xander said.

“Why’s that?”

Xander held up the ID card he’d taken from Dr. Angleman, and then swiped it through the reader on the scientists private elevator. “Private elevator.”

“Where are we?”

“Angel’s old apartment,” Xander said.

“He kept it? Poof.”

“I stashed some clothes and stuff here. We’ll need to get out of Sunnydale before they put up roadblocks.”

Xander started removing his uniform.

“You ever been fucked?”

“What?”

“You ever been fucked?”

“No, I....”

Spike stalked him until Xander was pressed against the wall. “I could stand to work off some of that adrenaline.”

“Are you nuts? You heard the part about getting out of mmph!”

Xander’d been kissed by guys before, Larry, Jesse, but he’d never been kissed like this. It was as if Spike wanted to be inside him, and he was going to get there through his mouth. When Xander lost his fight, Spike’s hands started moving. Down Xander’s bare back and into his unbuttoned pants. Gripped his ass. Slipped between his cheeks and teased his hole.

“Oh, god.” Xander dropped his head back and didn’t stop Spike when he started nibbling at his neck. Or when one hand slipped around and began to jack him.

“Gonna let me?”

Unfortunately, Xander was feeling the adrenaline rush, as well, and though he’d tried to damp it down, Spike knew just how to touch him to bring it to the surface. “Yes. Hurry.”

“Need it bad, do you?”

“No,” Xander lied, “we just need to get out of here.”

Spike pulled back with a smirk. “I guess I can wait, then.”

Xander was breathing hard, from arousal and frustration. “Bastard.”

He tackled Spike to the floor, and Spike laughed as they went down. And then they were rolling across the floor, shedding clothes as they went, until Xander was on his knees and Spike’s tongue was opening him up and sending him to heaven.

“Please.”

Spike used fingers on him before holding him steady and shoving his dick inside him. He pulled Xander up so that he was sitting on Spike’s lap, his cock buried even deeper inside him.

“Gonna make you come so hard,” Spike whispered in his ear. “You’ll never want anyone to touch you but me.”

Xander screamed in pain as Spike bit him, and then again in the most pleasurable kind of pain when Spike stroked him to orgasm as he drew the blood out of him.

The sting when Spike slapped his bare ass brought Xander around.

“C’mon, pet, we need to get out of here,” he said.

Spike was already cleaned up and dressed. He dropped the cold wash cloth onto Xander’s belly when he rolled over.

“Shit!”

Spike just laughed while Xander swore under his breath and carefully wiped himself off. He got dressed in the clothes he’d left there, and then stuffed his wallet in his back pocket. He’d cleaned out his bank accounts and maxed out the cash advance on his credit card. The money was hidden in a pouch he wrapped around his calf. A gun he’d purchased before he moved back to Sunnydale was tucked in the back of his waistband.

“You gonna tell me how you did that?” he finally asked.

“Did what?”

“Bit me. Fucked me. Without so much as a twinge from the chip.”

“Oh, that.” Spike couldn’t hide his grin. “Blighters thought they were learning all about me, didn’t realize what they were teaching me.”

“Which is?”

“Ever wonder how the chip knows to go off?”

Xander shook his head.

“It’s all about intent. If I’m thinking I only want to make you feel good, chip lets me do it, even if I end up knocking you over the head with your own clipboard.”

“Does that mean you don’t need me anymore? Or you won’t once we’re out of Sunnydale?”

Spike frowned. “Did you just turn into a chit?”

“Fuck you, Spike.”

Spike winked. “Next time. Maybe.”

Xander rolled his eyes and held a knit cap out to Spike.

“What’s that?”

Xander tossed it to him. “Put it on.”

“I ain’t wearin’ that.”

“It was that or dye, now put it on so we can get out of here.”

While Spike was glaring at the cap, Xander snatched up his duster and started folding it.

“Whoa, now, what do you think you’re doing with that?”

“Packing it,” Xander said as he stuffed into the duffle. “You can’t wear it, it stands out. I brought you one.”

Xander handed Spike a letterman’s jacket he’d found at the local thrift shop.

Spike stared at the cap and jacket forlornly. “Bollocks.”

Xander put his own jacket on and picked up the duffle that contained a couple changes of clothes in addition to Spike’s duster. He led the way out of the apartment.

“So, where we going?” Spike asked as he shrugged into the jacket and then pulled the hat on haphazardly.

Xander turned around to answer him and couldn’t help smiling at the picture he made. Spike pulled the hat off and threw it at Xander.

“I ain’t wearin’ it!”

Xander walked over to Spike and pushed him back against the wall. He kissed him, and then pulled the hat on over his head, arranging it just so before kissing him again.

“Now leave it on and let’s get going.”

Spike fell into step with him as they went down the backstairs to the street. “You never answered my question.”

“L.A.,” Xander said.

Spike tripped. “That’s not funny, pet.”

“Would I lie to you, Spike?”

“You mean we’re.... Oh, bloody hell.”

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